


special delivery

by syrupwit



Series: typical human courtship [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: M/M, Showing Up On A Doorstep And Pretending To Be Mail-Order Spouse In Hope They'll Just Go With It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 01:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupwit/pseuds/syrupwit
Summary: This is it. Zim is finally going to win.





	special delivery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cricket_aria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cricket_aria/gifts).

Zim raps at the door until he hears movement stir within the apartment, then hammers harder until the occupant groans and stomps toward the entry.

There is the sound of continued grumbling, and of many locks clicking. The door is shoved open as far as the three remaining chains will allow. Then, for the first time in mumble-something years, the great, the marvelous, the incomparably amazing Invader Zim is face to face with his most bitter nemesis. His soon to be _ former _ nemesis, once he ensnares the miserable creature with the power of PATHETIC human love.

He is, irritatingly, much taller than Zim remembered. Luckily, his hair is still very stupid.

“Hello!” says Zim, pasting over his premature gloating with what he believes is an appealing smile. (It isn’t.) The human’s eyes track past him to the suitcase at his side.

“I didn’t order any takeout. You have the wrong apartment.” The Dib-thing’s pasty, stubbly face shows annoyance and wariness, but not an ounce of recognition.

“Nonsense. I have the RIGHT apartment.” Zim spreads his arms and gestures at his body, or more accurately the illusion disguising his body. He practically wriggles with glee as the meat-creature looks him up and down. “You wished for a domestic companion, did you not? A partner to share the burden of your dreary, monotonous life? And here ZI—here I am! The fulfillment of your wildest dreams! For only $139.99 a month, plus tax.”

“I think there’s been a mistake,” says the Dib.

“Is THIS a mistake?” Zim shoves a copy of his contract through the gap, restraining a cackle as Dib reads over the document with widening eyes. Obtaining the idiotic human’s signature had been so easy. One of Zim’s new robots had accosted him with a mock petition outside one of the three stores he routinely visited after work, and had barely had time to fumble through a spiel about zoning laws before the gullible Dib-thing signed the paper without a second glance.

“I can’t afford this,” the Dib mumbles, gaze darting over the fine print. And, yes, he can’t. His menial human job barely covers his rent. GIR had been much entertained by the succession of colorful past due notices when they stole his mail.

“About that... There is a free 30-day trial period. No charge if you cancel before day 31.”

“Where does it say that? I don’t see it.”

“Check Section 8.4.3. Or 8.4.5.1. It’s one of those. Page six.”

“Ah.” Dib locates the relevant passage. Zim watches his smelly flesh lips shape silent sounds as he reads, and internally starts the countdown to a victory dance. He can see the moment when it clicks for Dib—the moment when his suspicion, mistrust, and deeply ingrained pessimism lose out to his loneliness and desire to believe that maybe, just once, something good might actually happen to him.

This is it. Zim is finally going to win.

“Well, since you’re here and all,” says the human, “I guess it’s fine if you come inside. Just let me clean up a bit first, it’s a pigsty in there.” He pauses. “What’s your name, by the way? Mine is Dib, though you probably knew that.”

“My name is.” Oh no, Zim hadn’t planned for this. How could he not have planned for this? “My name is… Miz!”

“Miz?”

“Yes. Miz. Old family name. Very respectable.” Zim forgets himself and glares at the human, daring him to impugn the honor of his chosen name.

“Okay, Miz. Nice to meet you.” The Dib’s disgusting, slimy mouth curls up at the corners. “Give me five minutes and I’ll show you around the apartment.”

“That is acceptable,” says Zim primly, and takes advantage of the human’s departure to shush GIR in his hiding place within the suitcase. The little robot had begun to sing.

That smile! Dib has already forfeited the first move. It should be no problem to make him fall hopelessly in love with Zim in the next 30 days. With Zim’s strongest enemy vanquished, conquering Earth will be a piece of steak, and after that… After that, perhaps someday the others will let him come home.


End file.
